


9-5-Wictor-Wictor-2

by VeloxVoid



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adorable Pavel Chekov, Advice, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Feel-good, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, Meeting Alternate Self, POV Pavel Chekov, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: Chekov has seen it all throughout his time at Starfleet. Just when daily occurrences begin to become the norm, he is visited by somebody unexpected. He isn't quite sure how to react upon meeting his alternate universe self.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	9-5-Wictor-Wictor-2

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a giveaway prize for Daniel! Thank you so much for giving such an awesome, fun prompt to write, and I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'm [VeloxVoid](https://twitter.com/VeloxVoid) on Twitter if you'd like to follow me for more, although I'm currently taking a break for my mental health :)

Another day.

As the turbolift’s doors opened, Pavel Andreievich Chekov smiled seeing the bridge come into view before him. Pristine and white, with a black sky filled with stars staring out at him through the main viewscreen. All of his muscles relaxed at the sight; this was where he belonged.

Sitting in the navigator’s chair was a feeling he was used to now; once, it had been so unfamiliar — wrong, almost, and so sickeningly nerve-wracking back when he was seventeen. He had felt undeserving at the time, unprepared for such responsibility. Now, however, it was second nature.

Pavel felt comfortable in the seat, as if he belonged in it. Its soft cushioned back molded to the shape of his body, soothing him. After a long weekend off work, anxiously itching to get back to business, the chair was waiting for him. 

He sat down in it; this Monday morning was slow, sleepy. His fingers flit across the screen before him as if by instinct, the calculations coming naturally to him by now. A hand clapped him suddenly on the shoulder, making him flinch slightly in surprise.

Once, a hand on his shoulder had been frightening — the captain come to scold him? Commander Spock unimpressed by his performance? Mister Sulu noting he had done something wrong? — but now, he welcomed it. The crew were not just his friends anymore, but his family too.

“One minute, please,” he told the hand, his eyes not leaving the screen. He just had one more set of coordinates to plug in, and then he would be with them—

 _“You've become a natural,”_ the voice behind him said.

That made his eyes snap open wide; that was not just any voice. It was not the stilted, yet dulcet tones of Mister Spock, nor the soothing melody of Lieutenant Uhura. The voice that met his ears spoke in Russian.

His mother tongue was one he had not heard in years, but it flowed so naturally through his ears, swirling around his brain like hot butter, warm and comforting. He had missed that language so much. Thus, he turned sharply, staring up into a face so much older than his own. So much older than any of the crew he knew — even Mister Scott.

He didn't recognise it. A slightly olive-toned face, with chocolatey-brown hair flecked with streaks of grey. While the face was old, bearing lines of age and wisdom, it was still handsome — almost boyishly so.

“Good morning,” Pavel said a little awkwardly, falling back into English out of habit.

 _“Good morning to you too, Mister Chekov,”_ the man said back, his Russian dialect so familiar — so similar to his own.

It unnerved him. A part of him felt so at ease around somebody from his home — comforted, almost — but the other part of him questioned who he could be. The clothes he wore were plain, a stylish golden coat giving nothing away.

Pavel turned around in his chair either way, clearing his throat and giving the man a smile. _“How may I help you, Sir?”_

 _“I just came to visit, to see how you’re doing.”_ The man’s face was warm, eyes taking him in with an expression close to pride. _“Ambassador Spock told me you’ve grown into the greatest navigator he’s ever seen.”_

That compliment made heat flush through his face. _“I’m… not so sure about that, but please pass on my thanks!”_ he said, before he realised. His brow furrowed. _“You know Ambassador Spock…?”_

The man smiled — a cunning, knowing smile that reminded him oddly of himself. _“Aye. He’s a colleague of mine! And… he might even be a friend. I think. I’m not so sure. I’ll get back to you on that.”_

But Pavel’s mind was reeling. _“A colleague?”_

He knew that Ambassador Spock had come from an alternate universe — had changed the course of time and crossed paths with this current one he resided in. Pavel knew the Ambassador had worked on the Enterprise in another reality — that he had his own version of Captain Kirk, his own version of the crew.

And as Pavel looked up into the older man’s eyes, he saw himself reflected back in them perfectly. An accent from his own hometown, a colleague of Ambassador Spock, and a knowledge of Pavel as a navigator…?

His blood ran cold, and his eyes grew wide. _“Mister Chekov…?”_

A broad smile lit up the other man’s face. _“It’s great to finally meet you!”_

 _“A-and you too!”_ He stood suddenly from his chair, feeling a little lightheaded, and held out his hand. _“It’s… incredible! Amazing! I didn’t know you’d also crossed into our…”_

 _“It’s a long story,”_ Mister Chekov chuckled, taking Pavel’s hand and giving a hearty shake. _“It’s amazing to see you so confident. I was so nervous back when I was new to the Enterprise…”_

 _“Me too!”_ Pavel laughed. _“Don’t worry!”_

_“But it looks like you’re doing well now. Comfortable in the role, at home in the position.”_

Pavel nodded. _“Did you grow into it too? Into being a navigator, that is.”_

 _“Oh, aye,”_ he responded with a smile. _“And security chief. And…”_ But his face grew cunning once again. _“Well, I’ll tell you about it later.”_

 _“Agh!”_ Pavel couldn’t help exclaiming. _“You can’t leave me hanging like that!”_

It was at that moment that Lieutenant Uhura entered the bridge, followed closely by Mister Sulu. They nodded to him and the other Chekov, who both waved back eagerly.

 _“This is so crazy!”_ The man laughed in a way that Pavel recognised well. _“Ah well, it looks like you’ll be embarking soon. I should be going—”_

A childish panic surged through him. _“No, wait!”_

The other Chekov looked alarmed. _“Are you alright?”_

He had so much to ask! So much to discuss! He could happily sit with the man all day, learning about his life and his roles aboard the Enterprise.

 _“Sorry for shouting, I just… I just wanted to ask. Before you leave. Do you have any… advice? Any tips on what to do? To help my, um…”_ He made vague gestures with his hands, as if that would help his cause. What was it the Ambassador had said to Mister Spock? _“To help my destiny?”_

Mister Chekov smiled and gave a boyish chuckle. _“Mister Spock is the one who talks about destiny. I have no idea about any of that stuff, I’ll be honest! All I will say is… do what feels right. Trust yourself. You’re more than capable, and very talented. I have full faith in you.”_

Pavel felt himself blushing.

 _“I’m just glad to see you doing well. I’m staying at Yorktown for a little while. I’ll be around when you next stop there.”_ He winked.

 _“Thank you,”_ Pavel said, somewhat abashed and more than a little lost for words. _“I definitely will.”_

 _“I look forward to it!”_ Mister Chekov reached out, and shook Pavel’s hand once more. _“Stay safe!”_

_“And you too!”_

He watched, starstruck, as the man nodded, smiled, and headed towards the turbolift. Its doors closed behind him, swallowing his visage. Just like that, he was gone.

Delight flushed through Pavel’s veins; a crazed, overwhelmed sort of ecstasy — the kind he often felt when he’d had a little too much vodka.

He had met his alternate self. Himself from another time — another universe. A him that had experienced so much more life, and so many more encounters. He may not have had any particular advice to give, but just for Pavel to be able to say he met him was a ridiculous, incredible feat.

Uhura had stepped over to him, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “It’s weird to hear you speaking Russian,” she remarked with a smile to her voice. “Nice, but weird. Who was that? A relative?”

Pavel was still fixated on the doors of the turbolift, as if they might open again and reveal the answers to all of his questions. Alas, they didn’t.

“A relative?” he responded wistfully, wondering what they would talk about when next they met. “Mm… yes. Sort of. Let’s say that.”


End file.
